Man of Shadows
by Corentin
Summary: Temari is a slave, taken from the land of Sand during the war. She is sold to Shikamaru, who is the Master of Assassins for the Hokage, as a concubine, but possibly more? This story will contain political intrigue, romance, some sex, a lot of mature themes, and a very confused love story. AU, M for sex, violence, and language. NOT A LEMON, but will contain some sex scenes.
1. On The Block

_Hey! Welcome to this new story! It's a bit more mature than my other stuff, but I think this it is going to be pretty good. Just to get this straight, off the bat-this story IS influenced by others. Most prominently, the Queen's Thief series (by Meghan Whalen Turner), but also by things like Assassin's Creed and others. So, don't come to me saying "This is just a rewrite of such and such!" It has elements from a lot of stories, but this story is original. I'm not too worried about it being completely original and unrelated to anything else...this is a fanfiction, after all. On that subject, yes, my characters are going to be out of character (OOC). Deal with it. It's an alternate universe (AU) fanfiction, so that's not going to happen. _

_I think that's it...so, enjoy, read, review, and share! Have fun_. _Oh yeah, I don't own these characters. _

* * *

Temari stood on the block, shivering in the cold air. She was wearing little: a ragged shift which barely covered her body, a set of cold iron manacles, and a head-scarf. As she stood, waiting for the bidding to begin, she grimaced. The men who'd put her here had made sure to arranged the shift so that it left little to the imagination. Even though they weren't selling her to the brothels anymore, they weren't going to pass up a chance at catching the eye of some young lordling who wanted a toy maid.

Thinking about the brothels, Temari put her hand to her face. Or, at least, that's what she tried to do. The chains on her hands were linked to those on her feet, making such a motion impossible. The cuts on her face, still fresh from that rusty iron nail, had been dressed, then hidden by some creative makeup, daubed on her by the "shiners", the women who mad the slaves look better than they really did, with tricks of pain and powder. Nonetheless, she could feel the burning wounds, hot against the cold air. She didn't regret it. It was that or spend every night in the arms of whatever fat,lecherous noble had bought her for that night. Between the brothels and self-mutilation, Temari had chosen the latter. She could still feel the bruises on her stomach where the pit-master had hit her when he found her bleeding on the floor. He'd been none to happy, but held back because she was up for sale. She'd already ruined herself for the brothels, he wouldn't help finish the job.

"Next, we have a specimen from the Land of Sands! She's a pretty one, isn't she? Turn her around, lads!" the auctioneer boomed. The two men on the platform grabbed Temari, roughly turning her around several times, grabbing her breasts and hips to show their size. She struggled violently, her face red and flushed from the humiliation.

"You see, she is a feisty one. Possibly a minus, but...I can see that being enjoyable," the auctioneer laughed. "Bend her over, lads, how about that?" The two men bent her roughly over. Temari's face went livid as the shift rode up, exposing her to whole crowd. She was about to scream bloody murder when one of the men stuffed his fingers in her mouth, shutting her up. At a sign from the short, extravagantly fat man who was running the auction, the two burly youths let her up and moved back to their positions. Temari straightened up, her jaw stiff, her face full of rage. She would not try to escape or cry, she wouldn't give them that pleasure. She looked out at the jeering men standing in the crowd and, one by one, she killed them all violently in her head, over and over again. It was a trick that Gaara had taught her, a way of dealing with rage. Of course, Gaara had always actually killed those who annoyed him, dismembering and mutilating them without mercy. She shuddered slightly at the memory, but was jolted back to the present as the first bids began to come in.

"One hundred lire!"

"Two!"

"I'll give you three hundred for that piece of meat." As she closed her eyes, the bidding continued like this, the men competing to see who could out-do each other, both in money and in vulgarity. It went on for about five minutes, the price finally driving up to the price of good horse. That bid came from a grotesque man, who made some comment about buying her ass alone. Temari opened her eyes to look at the bidder, then closed them again, shuddering at the man's looks and mannerism. As the auctioneer counted down, she prayed with all her heart to Shukaku, the brutal god of sand, begging him for someone else, anyone else.

"Do I hear any more than one thousand for this...lucious piece of womanhood?" the auctioneer laughed. "Going once...going twice..Gone!" However, before he could get the last syllable out, he was interrupted by a lazy drawl.

"One thousand and one." Temari opened her eyes, staring at the man who'd said it. He was standing at the front of the crowd, a circle of emptiness around him. His long black hair was pulled up into a ridiculous topknot, and a cigarette was hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Pulling it out, he blew smoke at the other bidder lazily. "Care to top that, love?" The man, who'd been celebrating his win, snarled.

"One thousand and two." Before the words were even out of his mouth, the other cut him off.

"Three." A hiss came out the back of the crowd. This man was playing with them, driving up the bidding for his own fun. The auctioneer coughed.

"I'm sorry, Minister. Would that be one thousand and three, or three thousand?" At this, a hush went through the crowd. Minister? As in one of the Hokage's personal advisers? Maybe he wasn't playing around. A Minister probably had the money to drive the bidding up ridiculously high. The grotesque man, who just moments before had been fantasizing about what he was going to to do Temari glowered as the black-haired smoker turned back to the stage. He looked Temari up and down, his eyes resting for a while on her cheeks. Grinning, he nodded.

"As you say, sir. Three thousand lire for this one. Actually, make it five." The crowd hushed. Nobody at this dock had that kind of money. For five thousand lire, one could buy a house, perhaps five cheap slaves, and an old horse. The auctioneer cleared his throat again, his reedy voice seeming small over the hush of the crowd.

"In that case...Do I hear any higher bids?...No? Then, going, going...SOLD! to Nara Shikamaru, Minister of Kaladian affairs!" At this, the hush disappeared. Kaladian Affairs? Kaladian? The minister to Kaladian was a joke, they said he was rarely sober enough to attend meetings. The area he represented was so small that barely anyone lived there, his office was purely ceremonial. As Minister Nara mounted the stage, the crowd began to circulate rumors, laugh, and generally be at ease again. Unlocking the chains, the two men handed Temari to Shikamaru, putting the cord attached to the collar on her neck in his hand. As he began to lead her off the stage, the auctioneer spoke again.

"Excuse me, sire. Those clothes belong to the pits." Nara Shikamaru turned around, a half-grin on his face.

"Is that so? Well then, she'd better take them off, then." He looked at her. "What was your name, woman?" Temari glared at him, her face livid. When he'd called out that first bid, she'd thought her prayers had been answered. She thought that the cruel lord of the sands for once had not been so cruel. She'd though a good man had come for her. Now it was obvious that he was just a fool and a lecher like the rest. The auctioneer answered for her.

"Her name is Temari, sire." The black-haired idiot nodded.

"Well then, Temari. Don't take what isn't yours. Take them off." Temari couldn't believe it. It was a well-known dupe, she'd even seen at it auctions back home. You tell an inexperienced slave owner that his slave's clothes don't belong to them, winning a free pair of clothes for re-use, giving the crowd a show, and forcing the man to buy more clothes for his slave. Was he really so dense? However, looking into his eyes, she could see that yes, he was. All she saw reflected in those eyes was stupidity and lust. Sighing, sending a sarcastic prayer of thanks to Shakaku, she pulled the shift over her head, exposing herself to the entire crowd. As the catcalls and whistles stared to come, Temari tried to cover herself with her hands. As her new master led her off the stage, she turned red, embarrassed both because of her nakedness, and because of her idiocy in believing that she might find a good man as a master.

* * *

She had to walk naked through the entire city, passing through market places, parks, and courtyards. Her feet began to bleed, cut on the cruel pavement stones. Her blush disappeared and her hands became less clenched to her, but the shame did not leave her. She had been a the daughter of a rich man, protected and pampered, and now look at her: walking naked on a leash in the streets like a dog. The man who'd bought her never turned to look at her, not even once. He didn't offer help when she was tired, simply pulled her on. He didn't offer her his tunic or even buy her a cloth to cover herself with, he simply kept walking. So, as they walked, she imagined ways to kill him, one after the other, her mind growing rank with images of him, covered in his own blood, throat cut, dismembered, castrated, disemboweled...

She almost crashed into him, only barely missing him as he stopped instantly in front of a large, if somewhat dilapidated house. Slowly, he reached up, knocking on the red door, which was almost instantly opened by a burly guard. As he walked through the courtyard, he pulled her along, almost choking her with the leash several times. Upon entering the main house, Temari's pain was relieved by the coolness of the indoors, but her shame renewed as the maids and others slaves, dressed simply but completely, tittered at her, pointing, whispering, laughing. Finally, her new owner turned around, finally facing her. His eyes looked her up and down, taking in the bloody feet, the burned skin, the sweat, the redness of the face, the anger in her eyes. Smiling, he spoke.

"How are you...Temari, wasn't it?" At this seemingly innocent question, Temari snapped. She could handle everything, she'd stayed silent through all the humiliations, but she couldn't handle it anymore.

"How am I? How am I? How do you think I am, you son of a bitch? You fall for the oldest trick in the book, strip me, pull me through those god-forsaken streets into this place and then you have the gall to ask me how the fuck I am? I'll tell you how I am, SIR, I'm angry!" The slaves who had gathered around suddenly hushed, and moved back into the shadows. Temari looked at them, confused, then, just before it hit, she saw Shikamaru's hand flying for her. He slapped her twice, very hard, knocking her down onto the floor.

"First rule, woman. Never insult me." He clapped his hands together, as if washing her dirt off of his hands. "Deal with her. I'll see her in two hours. Make sure you're done by then." Silently, three of the older women swept in, grabbing Temari and pulling her away to a room off the main atrium. As she was dragged out, she heard Nara's voice again. "What are you all looking at? Go away, scrub some floors or something." She squeezed her eyes shut. She would not cry, no matter what they did to her. They could burn her, they could beat her, they could cut her, they could rape her. Those things they had already done. She could feel the burn of the 'S' on her ass, marking her for life as a slave, the slices on her cheek, the bruises on her stomach, and the ache between her thighs where the slavers, the pit-keepers, the auctioneer, and many others had their way with her over the month since her capture. She'd cried the first time, but never since then. No matter what, she wouldn't cry.

* * *

_So, review, share, comment. Please let me know how you liked it, what you think is going to happen, and so on. Let's start a conversation. :)  
_

_Corentin._


	2. At The Party

As it turned out, she didn't need to cry. The women hadn't been called to beat her or torture her, as she'd assumed. They were the eldest women in the house, those entrusted with the duty of making the others look presentable. They oversaw the washing of clothes, the use of make-up and perfume. In time, Temari would come to realize that their purpose was highly functional, as they made sure that precious hot water, paints, and such were not wasted by vain maids, while ensuring that the household looked moderately good. As she would come to learn, it was all about appearances.

They pampered her for an entire hour, soaking her in a bath, scrubbing her dirt-encrusted skin to the point of shining. They forced the dirt and blood out of every portion of her, making her feel clean for the first time in almost a month. While not gentle, the women were not overly rough, and were especially gentle with her cheeks, and her thigh area, as if respecting the pain which lay behind the wounds there. After the bath was over, they dried her off, and then shaved all the hair from her body, except that on top of her head. That they teased and combed until it was as silk, long and flowing down to her shoulder-blades. Lotion was rubbed into her skin, soothing and smoothing it. Her teeth were cleaned extensively, getting rid of the stains left by her blood and the cheap, strong sauces used to cover the rottenness of the meat fed to slaves. Her lips were given a balm which began to knit over the split in her lip, her ears were cleaned out. Even her eyelashes were dealt with, trimmed, cleaned, and curled.

Once the three women had completed this task, they did little more. They gave her a bit of some simple soup to eat (cleaning her teeth again afterwards), put a bit of perfume which smelled like roses on her, put her hair in a simple pony-tail, and gave her some undergarments and a plain black dress. Through all the hours of primping and pampering, they kept an eerie silence. Or at least, it seemed eerie at first. After her first attempts at conversation (which ran somewhere along the lines of "Let me go, you wrinkled old bitches!") were ignored, Temari lapsed into silence. At first it was the lonely, sullen silence of a slave, which she had perfected by now. However, after some time, it became restful, and she let herself be carried away by it. Finally, two hours later, they were done. The three elderly women ushered her out of the room, bowing slightly to her. One of them motioned down the hall, indicating that she should go in that direction. Temari began to walk away, then turned around. She bowed, slightly.

"Thank you, grandmother." The woman smiled slightly, then motioned down the hall again. Temari nodded, moving off down the marble floors, her bare feet, the skin soft now, brushing against the floors. She was less on her guard now, but no less angry at Nara. Her wounds had been dealt with and would heal, but her pride was still wounded by his foolishness. She would not forget that wound for a long time, longer even than the scars which were beginning to form from the angry red lines on her cheeks. Besides, the pampering she'd received meant he wanted her to look pretty, which probably meant sex. And Temari was not in the habit of forgiving rapists.

* * *

He saw her first, but he gave no sign. In fact, to the outward observer, he seemed to be sleeping. Shikamaru Nara sat on a bench in the hallway, his hair still in the top-knot, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, breathing slow and deeply, with his eyes closed. As Temari approached him, she looked him up and down. He wasn't that bad looking, even if he was a fool. Well muscled, clean, she could do worse for a sexual partner. Asleep, he seemed younger than he had before, closer to her age. Maybe he wasn't _that _bad. Also, someone desperate enough to buy a slave for sex should be simple enough to wrap around her finger. Within maybe a month, she'd be the one calling the shots. As she stood there, thinking these things, Shikamaru sat up, shaking his head as if waking from a nap. Taking the cigarette and crushing it under his heel, he stood up, looking at Temari through hooded eyes.

"You're late, woman." Temari stiffened, all of the good feeling about him abruptly leaving her. _Stay calm, stay clam..._she told herself. _I need to win his trust first, so I should be polite. _

"Sorry, sir. I came as soon as the women were finished." Shikamaru rolled his eyes.

"Well, whatever. I'm always late to parties, once more won't ruin my reputation." Temari blinked, processing the words.

"Party? What?" Shikamaru grinned at her, a hint of cruel pleasure behind his smile.

"We're going to a party."

* * *

Temari rubbed her arms, standing in the middle of the cold central hall of the Hokage's palace. The night had fallen, taking the heat with it. Standing in the middle of the crowd, she felt half naked. Her dress was of one color with no embroidery, it only went down to her knees and didn't even cover her shoulders. She had no fancy jewelry, and her hair was in a simple pony tail. She looked around herself, looking at the multicolored, floor-length, embroidered gowns of the ladies of Konoha, their jewelry, their hairstyles, and their makeup. Staring at herself in one of the mirrors that lined the walls of the room, she looked small and frightened. Shaking her head, Temari straightened up, putting her arms down at her sides. Even without fine clothes or jewelry, she was still twice the woman that any of these pampered pansies were. She was Sabaku no Temari, she was the daughter of the great, trained by the- She shook her head. None of that mattered here. Still, she was worth more than any of these women around her, beaten as she was.

She looked around the room, trying to locate Shikamaru. Seeing him in a corner nursing a bottle, she sighed. She hadn't forgiven him for anything, but his arm had been comforting, something familiar, even if it was a familiar hate. It had been something to hold onto, at least until he'd disentangled himself from her, mumbling something about how all women were troublesome and he needed to find somebody who understood him better. Apparently sake was a more loving companion than she was. Temari closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them-she had the distinct impression that someone was watching her.

And she was right. A young woman stood in front of her, dressed in a long, blue dress with golden clasps running down the front. Her hair was up in two simple buns, and her head was cocked. Temari stared back at her, pushing herself off the wall where she'd been resting, her hands open at her sides.

"Yes?" The girl smiled, a gentle smile which diffused the tension.

"You must be Temari? Neji told me about you." Temari looked at her, confused.

"Who? I don't know any Neji."

"Neji is my...owner." She grimaced a little at the word. She pointed over at Shikamaru, indicating the tall, pale man dressed in flowing robes, his hair falling to his waist who was standing near Shikamaru, speaking with him. Realization flooded through Temari as her mind processed the last sentence.

"Your owner? Then you're..." The girl nodded, smiling slightly.

"A slave, like you. Actually very much like you, I'm from the land of Wind too. Not Sunagakure, but a small outlying village."

"Oh? When did they take you?" Temari raised her eyebrows, there were no recent marks on this girl. None at all, actually, that she could see.

"Near the beginning of the war, three years ago. Neji bought me then, and I've been his confidant ever since."

"Confidant? Is that what he calls it?" Temari snorted. The girl's brow furrowed.

"Yes...? Why?"

"I figured concubine would be a better word for what we are to them." The other woman's face cleared and she laughed a bit.

"Oh, dear, I'm not Neji's concubine. I'm...what I said. His confidant. I spend my days with him, I keep his secrets, I accompany him to parties, and so on."

"So you don't sleep with him?" Temari pursed her lips. The other tilted her head back and forth a bit, blushing slightly.

"Well...yes, but by choice, not by duty."

"So, Shikamaru didn't buy me for sex?"

"Maybe, I don't know. But I mean, think about it. If he just wanted something to stick himself in, he could buy a prostitute every time he wanted without much trouble. "

"I guess."

"Oh my, I'm being rude. I know your name, but you don't know mine. I'm Tenten."

"Tenten? Pleased to meet you." Temari extended her hand. Tenten took it, smiling.

"Likewise, Temari." Folding Temari's arm into her own, Tenten steered her away from the wall, pulling her gently into the rush of the party. Leaning close, she whispered in her ear. "You'd be surprised at how many of these 'fine ladies' are actually slaves. Many of the men in government aren't married or are unhappy in their marriages, so it's quite common, almost fashionable, to bring a woman you own with you. Of course, most of these women were bought years ago or are second-generation slaves. I doubt any of them are war prizes like you or I." Temari nodded, mentally filing the information.

"So, what is the purpose of this party?" Tenten laughed, lightly.

"What is the purpose of any party? To display the wealth of the host."

* * *

Two hours later, Temari and Tenten were still together, arm in arm, enjoying their time together. While Temari had been determined to keep up her bad mood, and was by no means over it, Tenten had an air about her which invited good moods. It was hard to be angry near here, and anyway, she wasn't responsible for Temari's situation. Temari satisfied herself with shooting poisoned looks towards Nara, who was getting progressively more and more drunk in the corner. The two had become fast friends, trading stories of their capture, enjoying the fine foods and wines at the party. Then, as the night drew to a close, Tenten left with Neji, smiling as she waved to Temari. Temari, on the other hand, was left with Shikamaru, who was now completely drunk. As the two of them walked back to his house, Temari was forced to half carry him. When they reached the gate, Shikarmaru pounded loudly on the door, slurring his speech as he shouted.

"Hey!...Open...upssshhh..." The windows on the street opened up as Shikamaru's pounding continued. As he grew louder, he was interrupted by another loud voice from a window.

"Shut up, you drunk fool!" Shikamaru turned around, tripping halfway there. Opening his mouth, he stood there for a moment as if waiting for the words to come out of their own volition. When it became clear that they wouldn't, he yelled back.

"Drunk? You say...I'm drunk, sirrah? I'll have, I'll...I'll have you know I am completely sober...completely..." A rude noise came from the window as it slammed shut, just as the gate opened. A large man, dressed in red armor with a glyph on the chest plate stared out at Shikarmaru.

"Again, sir?" Shikarmaru stumbled past the huge guard, mumbling under his breath. On passing him, he slapped him on the shoulder.

"Ah, shut up, Choji, you big kill-joy. My body, my choices." The large man sighed.

"Of course, sir." He looked at Temari. "Can you make sure he gets to his room?"

"I don't know where it is, I just got-" Temari was cut off by Shikamaru's words.

"Choji, I know where my own room is, I'll be...fiiiiine." Choji sighed, rolling his eyes. As the two walked into the house, Temari could hear him muttering under his breath.

* * *

Reaching Shikamaru's room, Temari waiting for a minute while Shikamaru tried to get a hold on the door knob, then finally opened it for him, in exasperation. She guided him to his bed, and laid him down.

"Do you need anything else, sir?" Shikamaru blinked, as if just waking up again.

"What? Oh, no, you can go to bed." Temari nodded, bristling a little bit at his tone, dismissing her as if it were huge bother, when she'd just practically carried him across town.

"Of course, sir. Where is my room?" Shikamaru grinned, his eyes hazy and lidded. He patted the large bed he was lying on.

"Here, of course." Temari blinked, her eyes widening.

"You're kidding, right? I'm not going to sleep with you, you disgusting man!" She was about to go on, but was interrupted by a snore, as Shikarmaru fell into a deep sleep. Turning around, Temari went to the door, intending to try to find a corner to sleep in, somewhere in the hall. However, opening the door, she found a pair of guards. Stepping back a bit, she stammered.

"Ah...he's asleep...can I leave now?" The guard shook his head, sternly.

"No. Master Nara ordered us to keep you here until tomorrow." Temari vaguely considered trying to break past them, but quickly gave up the idea. There were two of them, they were big, and they'd catch her. It'd just lead to a beating. Sighing, Temari closed the door. Turning around, she stared at the man lying on the bed, still in his clothes, his hair still up. Growling slightly under her breath, Temari walked over to the bed. Taking off her dress, leaving her in just a shift, she sat down on the bed to remove her shoes. She's only intended to rest there for a moment, but GODS it was soft. Without meaning to, Sabaku no Temari, property of Shikamaru Nara fell asleep next to the man who now owned her, the man for whom the depths of her hatred were not even clear to her yet.

When he was sure she was sound asleep, Shikamaru stood up. His hand steady, his movements well controlled, he stripped, got under the covers, and put Temari underneath alongside him. He stroked her hair, gently, a single tear running down his cheek.

"Fuck this...Shiho, I need you back. She'll never be what you were to me." He laid back, his tears running silently down his cheeks. Never show emotion, never get attached, that was the trick. Fuck her, use her up, sell her. Like the others did. He'd never find anyone like Shiho, anyone like Tenten. He should just get his pleasure from her now, and get rid of her. But not tonight. Not now. As he laid there in the shadows, Shikamaru sighed. Would he ever be able to feel like that again?

* * *

_Oh, intrigue? Past lovers? What what what? :P Read and review, but yeah. Two chapters in as many days...Don't expect this to keep up. Hope you enjoyed. :P  
_

_Thanks to jayjoan and bichebleue, who reviewed chapter 1. I really appreciate it. :D_


	3. In The House

Temari's eyes eased open slowly, the daylight which was gently washing the room finally finding them. She laid there for a moment, reveling in the softness of the sheets, the beauty of the room. For an instant, she felt as if she was back , putting her hand to her face, she encountered the wounds on her face, still closing. The lines of fire traveled across her smooth cheeks, ragged from the unstable cut she had made. Curling into herself, Temari disturbed the rest of the wounds, the brand on her ass, the ache between her legs, the fire on her face, and the bruises all around. Remembering where she was, what she was, Temari's eyes began to water, beginning to cry, but she steeled herself. She was not alone.

Looking beside her, she saw Shikamaru Nara, his hair spread out on the pillow. His eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling slowly, and his mouth twitching. Seeing the man to whom she belonged, a fresh sense of revulsion went over. She'd been softened both literally and metaphorically by the kind treatment of the bath, by Tenten's attitude, and by the alcohol she'd consumed. Painkillers, both intended and unintended, had numbed her to her situation, to her future. Sliding out of the bed quietly, Temari moved to one of the chairs in the room and, since she was sure Nara was asleep,cried silently into her arms, bemoaning her fate for the first time since she'd been captured.

He wasn't asleep. The moment she'd moved, Shikamaru Nara had been completely awake and aware. Becoming unused to sharing a bedfellow these past two years, it seemed, had returned him to what he was before. Hearing the unmistakable sounds of tears, his heart sunk. She was probably damaged beyond repair, wasn't she? IF he wanted to gain her trust, he should just go to her, shouldn't he? Comfort her, wipe her tears, let her cry in his arms? He stopped. Wait...why should he build her trust? She was his, he could do what he wanted to her. Fuck her, forget her? Move on? Images from yesterday, of Temari's body, beautiful even when covered in dirt and cuts, flooded his mind, causing him to shift slightly, uncomfortably full of energy, and hardened both his resolve to remain "asleep", and...other things. Temari raised her head, looking at her owner, who'd shifted "in his sleep". She wiped the tears from her eyes. He could wake up at any time, and if she wanted any hope of getting home, he could not see her vulnerable. She had to be a rock. She had to be emotionless. Slipping back into bed with him, Temari closed her eyes, lying there next to the black-haired man.

After about ten minutes, Shikamaru sat up, "waking". Temari looked up at him, pretending to be groggy. Shaking his head, Shikamaru stood up. "Oh gods, my head...good morning, Temari." As he stood in front of the bed, rubbing his forehead, Temari's eyes were drawn to his hips, and the bulge in between them. The size and apparent hardness made her shiver a bit. Many things had been thrust between her legs in the past month, flesh and blood, as well as wood, metal, and once something of ice. However, Shikamaru's "instrument" appeared to trump them all for size... She shook her head a bit, trying to rid her mind of these thoughts. She wasn't interested in him, for gods' sakes. He owned her, she didn't want to bed him...did she? Standing up, Temari walked to the bathroom, splashing some cold water on her face to clear her head. She hated this man, she told herself. Hated him. With her resolve steeled, she washed briefly.

Shikamaru, enjoying Temari's curves as she walked past him, felt himself swell to his full size, confined in his pants. He struck himself on the forehead. It wasn't the time or the place. Sighing, he pulled on clothes, walking out of the room. He had to leave her, otherwise he might snap. When Temari came back into the room, she found it empty. Shrugging, she pulled her dress from last night on, opening the door. Finding nobody at the door, she stepped out into the hall. Looking back and forth, she chose a direction, and began to walk.

Temari spent almost an hour wandering through the house, marveling. It was a little run-down, to be sure, but it was massive. Almost a hundred rooms, to her closest count, and many maids and menservants. All ages, from children shorter than her waist to the elderly, their hair whiter than snow, were in the house, and all ages, apparently, had been told to stay away from her. Smiles disappeared, conversations choked, and people turned their back. It wasn't disgust or pity, none of those emotions. When she tried to talk to them, if she asked questions or directions, they answered her, perfectly civilly. However, if she tried to start a conversation, they shut up instantly, turning away to their work. Someone had told them not to talk to her, and had inspired a fair amount of fear for them to be so silent. He was isolating her.

After about an hour of walking, Temari found Shikamaru in the atrium, speaking with the lavender eyed man she'd seen him with the other night, Tenten's master. Shikamaru's brow was furrowed, his eyes focused. As she walked towards them, staying close to the wall so as not to be seen, she strained to hear what they were saying even though they were talking in hushed tones.

"Are you sure, Neji? A change in leadership for Otogakure could change every." Neji nodded and sighed.

"The information is verified. I've received the same message from three of my most trusted men: The king snake is death, Otogakure is ruled by the hawk." Shaking his head slightly, Neji rubbed his head. "You do realize this will accelerate our plans for Sunagakure? I need you to carry out your jobs on a modified schedule. If you were to go into the field yourself, our problems might be mitigated..." He trailed off at a hand signal from Shikamaru. As the black-haired Minister turned, his eyes confirmed what his other senses had detected, Temari, hiding alongside the wall, believing she was unseen. He turned back and flicked his eyes towards the figure sitting by Neji's side, hidden from Temari by Shikamaru's body. Neji rested his hand on Tenten's and whispered something in her ear. She smiled, kissed him on the lips tenderly, and as the two men walked off down another hall, she approached Temari. When she saw Temari, she jumped slightly.

"Oh! Dear, it's you. I was just coming to find you." She smiled. "How are you this morning?" Temari, who'd stepped out from behind the wall, noted the simple elegance of Tenten's garb and posture. She smiled back.

"Fine. Why are you here, exactly?" Tenten's smile wavered slightly, but she kept a clam composure.

"Oh, Neji had to meet with Shikamaru and he took me along. He does that every now and then, so that I can keep him company. Shall we go to your room?" Tenten took Temari's hand and slowly lead her back to Shikamaru's room, skillfully navigating the twisted and occasionally crowded hallways. While they walked, Temari's mouth remained closed, her resolve to hate everything of Shikamaru extending to Tenten, the friend who was obviously orchestrated by those two terrible me. She answered Tenten's every attempt at conversation with shrugs, As Tenten's hand took the door handle to open the door, Temari said:

"So he brings along a toy?" Tenten's hand clenched, the door squeaking as she opened it and stalked in, letting go of Temari's hand. Temari followed her, drawn by her anger, by her obvious refusal to reply in front of the people standing in the hall. She wasn't afraid of this woman, shorter than her by a few inches, petite and dressed prettily, and yet there was a strength and an anger emanating from Tenten that Temari couldn't help but be entranced, and slightly terrified by. Tenten, hearing the click of the door, whirled around, her eyes blazing.

"Are you serious? A toy? A TOY? That's what you think I am to Neji? That's what you think I am? A TOY?" Tenten shook her head. "Temari, you have NO IDEA what you're talking about." Temari's stared directly into Tenten's eyes, a small fire burning behind hers as well.

"Okay, then what AM I talking about? Because, you see, I thought I was talking to a woman like me, a woman bought for a few thousand lire off the block, brought home as a trophy, bedded and left alone. I thought I was talking to someone else who understood the fact that they see us as toys, but I guess I was wrong. I guess you've given into them, haven't you? You've been too long in the pretty cage, you've forgotten what it is to be free!" As her voice rose, Temari found herself saying things she hadn't known she could, things she hadn't even been aware of thinking, but now found had been pent up inside her for the past few days. She couldn't STAND it, not the pretty clothes, not the soft sheets, not the fancy party. They were all just reminders that she wasn't free, that she'd never be her own again. Tears began to gather to the corners of her eyes and she brushed them away angrily, roughly. She would not cry in front of that...caged bird. That collared bitch.

"Could you just...leave? Please." Tenten's face fell. Walking past Temari, she sighed.

"I just want you to know, Temari. I'm not Neji's toy. He bought me, yes. But he loves me, he trusts me...and I'm sure that's what Shikamaru wants, too." Temari snorted, looking away from Tenten. As the door shut behind her, she burst into tears again, falling onto the bed. Though the tears died down, Temari remained listless for many hours, the shadows of the room slowly drifting across her prone form. She sunk into a state of half sleep, and was only roused, in the first hours of the night, by a hand, resting on her ass. First resting, then caressing, massaging slow circles...

She was waking up, but the nightmare had just begun.

* * *

**So, this is considerably less than the other chapters. I figured I'd post the amount I have to keep this story alive while I handle school shit. Sorry about that. Fairly soon, I hope to be able to do some more serious writing, but right now I've got a lot on my plate. Hope you guys understand, and I hope you're enjoying it so far.  
**


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